


A Thing

by acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, andcreation



Series: A Thing [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline/pseuds/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/andcreation/pseuds/andcreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duty done, back to home, pretend that none of this had ever happened and back to civ life. There was no such thing though. Not now, not when his life was so firmly divided in Before and After categories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. favorite son

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without the large poking stick that is Claire and her headcanons. This is a story that has been being tossed around between us since maybe November, each of us adding in different parts and ideas until neither of us are even sure who has created what any more. We are both excited to finally be able to share this universe with you.
> 
> Each chapter is named...well… you’ll see as things go on how our naming convention for chapters work. Suffice to say, there is a plan to it, and cookies to you who figure it out. For this chapter, the following song is the theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDcxdAAOXQA

For the third time in twenty minutes, Oliver walked the aisle of the plane. He hated sitting still, always had, but even more so now after his third tour of the Middle East. If he sat still, he was an easier target to hit, easier to see unless he was hunched in over himself with his desert fatigues covering every bit of skin when he hid in the sparse bushes, sighting in a scope.

But the order had come in from command and he was tossed on a cargo plane going to Landstuhl just as quick as he was able to pack his bag. Duty done, back to home, pretend that none of this had ever happened and back to civ life. There was no such thing though. Not now, not when his life was so firmly divided in Before and After categories.

Oliver wished that there had been a break between his journey from hell to Germany and from Germany to Star City. He would have changed into a t-shirt and jeans, even if he had to buy them at an overpriced souvenir shop. Instead he was wearing clothes that stank of sweat, sand, blood and guns. There had been no time to change into a clean set before he had rushed to his jumpseat and strapped in, no time before his flight left Frankfurt’s International airport. 

A frail, reedy sounding voice saying “Thank you” startled him out of his thoughts and back into the present. He untensed enough that he could move and nodded at the old woman and her knitting who had spoken. Another reason he wanted to change. He didn’t want people thanking him. It wasn’t why he had enlisted to begin with, and he sure as fuck didn’t deserve it after everything he had done in the name of ‘freedom’. She absently patted his hand softly. “You’re a good boy. My grandson wants to join up too, but he is going to college first. Computers. He says it’s the way of the future. Bah,” she scoffed, returning to her knitting. The click clack of the needles were rhythmic in a way Oliver didn’t know he needed until he felt his jitters calming down. “I remember when Leonard went off to France, and they told us then that it was all computers too. I’ve been through it all, there will always be a need for people on the ground.” She nodded firmly, and Oliver knew that she wasn’t talking to him anymore when she added sadly, “there will always be people to thank.”

He went back to his seat, folding his oversized body into the too small chair and shoved in the headphones the airline had provided. Head barely on the headrest, he closed his eyes. God, he just wanted to be home.

When he came through security, her heard a yell of “OLLIE” that could have pierced the heavens and barely had time to turn before he caught the person running at him. 

“Speedy!” His sister wrapped herself and the giant sign she was holding around him, crushing him as he held her tight in a hug that was more soothing than any drug he could have been given.

She pulled back, pushing brown hair out of her face and smiling up at him. He absently noted that he didn’t need to look down as far to meet her eyes as he had when she had seen him off. “Oh my God it is so good to have you back home and you’re really here and oh my god you reek,” she stepped away from him slightly, grinning the Queen grin that he felt forming on his face too.  
“You know me. Had to keep myself reminded of you somehow.” It was after he had reset his bag on his shoulder that he noticed the sign she was holding.

**WELCOME HOME LT QUEEN**

While it was Thea’s writing, the amount of glitter filling in the writing made him unable to recognize it for a moment. “Where did you even find that much glitter?”

“I might have bought out the town. Preschools everywhere are going to be in agony for weeks,” she told him. He looked down at his clothes, worried he was going to find himself covered in specks of silver and gold that he would never be able to get away from. “Don’t worry, I modge-podged it. You will remain badass and glitter free.”

“Thank God for small favors.” He snatched the keys she had been tossing into the air out from in front of her. “I’m driving.”

“What? You think I’m letting you drive? Do you even remember how to drive?”

“Thea, I was in Iraq, not on Mars.” The sweat from Star City heat and exhaust was starting to slip down his back again. 

“Exactly my point,” she argued, taking her keys back. “You didn’t need to worry about things like roads or pedestrians or trees or hitting things…” Thea stopped cold and almost dropped her sign when she closed her eyes, wincing. “Shit, Oliver. I’m sorry.”

He took her keys from her hand again. “As well you should be. What the fuck, Thea. You know you aren’t allowed to curse, dammit.” He didn’t wait for her to react before walking towards the preferred parking lot. “Mom waiting in the car?”

“About that. No, she’s…” A long suffering sigh came from his sister as she caught up with him. “She’s in a board meeting with chairs that apparently could not be missed. Or rescheduled. For anything.” It had the sound of the end of an argument that had happened several times over already. Thea wrapped her hands around his a moment before pulling away with the keys for the blue mustang in front of them. “Come on, I’ll buy you your first meal back home. What do you want?”

“Honestly? I would about die for a burger and sweet potato fries right now.” It was all he had been waiting for months out in the desert. The fries especially. There were only so many things the mess hall was able to make in large enough batches for the squads out there, and sweet potato fries had not been among them.

Thea barely waited for him to close his car door before she threw the car into reverse. “Big Belly Burger it is.”

They went through the drive through at Big Belly, and while Thea kept it light with a salad and some fries as a side, Oliver came pretty close to ordering everything off of their value menu. She pulled off onto one of the side roads that wound around the outskirts of the city, roads they learned how to drive on due to the lack of traffic, before they both dug into their meals. It was far easier to eat with one hand and drive with another when you didn’t have to constantly stop at the lights and shift into lower gears. There was a comfortable silence as they ate, the radio playing ‘the new pop hits!’ about the only noise aside from wheels on the road and the wind through the windows. It was only after the last wrapper had been crumpled and tossed into the paper bag for trash that his sister slowly began to make their way back home.

Comfortably full of burgers made from questionable ingredients, Oliver leaned back in the passenger seat of Thea’s car as they drove to the mansion. He hadn’t been home since his tour began, and had spent months in close confines with other men and women to the extent that there was no such thing as privacy or personal space for him anymore.

Even though the Queen house was huge, he knew when they rounded the drive and it came into view that he wouldn’t be able to stay there for long. All he could see were the different places defenses could be breached. It was something that his commanding officer, Captain Diggle, had warned him might happen once he returned home. It was something that the imposing man had dealt with himself, the way he talked about it.

“So, have to ask,” Thea said, pulling Oliver’s thoughts away from the house and back to the car as it rolled to a stop. “Why the camo?” She waved a hand at him, over him. “You have the fancy duds. I thought you would want to be all fancy when you came home.”

He shook his head and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Dress Blues are a pain in the butt. They have to be clean, have to be pressed in a very specific way so that the creases are the right size and in the right spots. There is nothing good about them.” Hefting himself out of the low to the ground car, he waited for Thea’s head to pop above the roof before he shut his own door and pulled his bag from the trunk she had opened. 

“There has to be something good,” she pressed on.

A half shrug with a shoulder. “They thought giving me a sword was a good idea.”

“I think that she was hoping you would be wearing them for this.” she muttered darkly. “Typical.” She stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder as he reached for the door. “Just...before you go in. Brace yourself. Mom kind of went a bit...crazy with you coming home. And might have invited the entire city.”

“I thought you said that she was in a board meeting?”

“She is. And will be by later. She had me set it all up.” His sister made an apologetic face at him. “Kinda sorry, but not really because it is really good to have you home?”

With that she opened the door and he was left to walk in by himself. There was a crowd waiting in the foyer of what he had once considered home and as he stood facing them, applause started on one side and passed through like a wave until the room was filled with its thunder. His seabag dropped to the wooden flooring and he shifted from foot to foot as he tried to regain his bearings at the sudden influx of people. 

Thankfully, Thea followed in right after him, welcoming what he was positive actually was all of the Starling City elite, saving him from coming up with any words on the fly. It was probably for the best; any of his recent speeches were more along the lines of don’t let the other bastards kill you and keep yourself alive long enough to get out and go home. Thea was better at being a hostess, she always had been. Even at a young age she had been able to command the attention of a room, charm it to her will. Hell, she charmed Oliver to her will more times that he was willing to admit, and he still would do anything for her.

So he played the dutiful son, circled the room and the people, held them at arm's length with handshakes and an easy smile. It wasn’t who he was then, but it was who they all expected now. To them War was nothing more than a game on a computer or an image from the news. He waited until they were all distracted enough by the Welcome Home Oliver food and drink to slip upstairs and into his room. 

With a sigh of relief, Oliver finally shed his clothes in a trail from door to bathroom. The water was set at near boiling when he walked into the shower and he was a lobster red before he felt clean enough to use the crisp white towels without turning them black. 

The bathroom mirror was covered with steam. Wiping away a streak with his towel, he was able to see that while he needed a shave, it wasn’t an immediate concern. It could wait until tomorrow. He made sure the towel was covering his important bits before opening up the bathroom door, stepping out of the hot humid air and into the cooler air of his room. 

And then, God, but it felt good to be back in Civvies. Jeans, henley picked at random. Socks without holes where his big toe poked through. It was still armor, but of a different sort than the tight fitting kevlar he had gotten used to. He did debate about putting shoes back on or going barefoot, but in the end being prepared won out and he shoved his feet back into the combat boots that he swore had actually grown around his feet.

The knock on the other side of his door startled him for a moment and he barely managed to catch himself before he went to a prone position in readiness for a fight. A deep breath. He was okay, it was all okay. “Yes?”

His mother opened the door. “Oliver.” She sounded like she had seen a ghost. Heels sinking into the plush blue carpet, her walk to him was silent. “Oh, baby. You’re home.” Oliver felt his muscles stiffen a moment before he relaxed and returned her hug. 

They stood in a bubble, mother and son, for a brief moment while time stood still around them.

It popped when he felt her pull away. “Why aren’t you downstairs? I thought you would be happy to see everyone.”

“I was honestly happier to see a shower, mother,” he told her. “And rediscover how wonderful clean clothing is.”

“Oliver, everyone is downstairs for you.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, through his hair. “I didn’t ask for this, mom. No party, no nothing. All I wanted was to come home and to sleep.” His words were honest, earnest, begging her to understand that what was downstairs was the life he had left behind when he had signed on with the Marines and not one he wanted to return to.

“Just for an hour or two, Oliver. Everyone wants to know you’re back safe and offer their congratulations to you.” He shook off her hand from his shoulder and she frowned slightly. “Now is not the time to act as though the rest of the world doesn’t exist. From your letters, it sounded like you had experienced enough of that. It’s why I had everyone gather tonight.”

“Which is a great thought, don’t get me wrong.” Oliver brushed past her as he spoke, snagging his leather jacket from the hook on the back of the door. “But really not what I needed suddenly sprung on me my first night back from a war.” 

His arms went through the sleeves with more force than was probably necessary, he later admitted to himself. There was also the possibility that he was sharper with his mom than he strictly needed to be, given that she had thought she was doing a good thing. 

“I’ll go out through the garage so they don’t see me leave,” he called back to her. “Don’t wait up.”

Those realizations would not come until the light of morning.

For now, as he climbed onto his Ducati for the first time in forever, his own thoughts were to get away. Maybe to get a drink, meet a girl. 

Get himself off in a way that didn’t primarily come from his own hand like it had been for the last four years.


	2. Ya Got Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is from "Ya Got Trouble" from _The Music Man_.
> 
> Enjoy!

Oliver Queen was not someone who ran late to anything. _Ollie Queen_ was a different story - but his years of service taught him the value of being on time. 

“Isn’t it my job to be late, brother dearest?” 

“Sorry, Speedy. I got caught in some traffic. And parking over here is a nightmare.” 

Thea didn’t look convinced, but seem to decide to let it go-- this time-- and led him into the place she had picked for their early dinner.

Verdant was a trendy little pub in the up-and-coming hospital district - just close enough to The Glades to be a little shady, but in an area that was slowly but surely becoming one of the places to be in Star City. It’s no surprise that Thea asked him to meet her here. 

Somehow they had a booth alongside the wall waiting for them when they arrived. It made sense, if he thought about it. Reservations were still a thing. Of course, the mass of people waiting near the entrance for a seat made it pretty clear that Thea had used their name to get them a spot when it might have otherwise been taken since he had been late. 

The dark lighting felt like a sort of heaven to his tired eyes. After giving his order for a cherry coke to the waitress, he leaned back in the comfortable seat and closed his eyes. Oliver let the conversation flow over him, around him, insteading of focusing on anything in particular.

“Ollie, are you even paying attention?” 

“Sorry, Speedy. I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“Stop calling me that,” she told him, almost a knee-jerk reaction at this point. She raised a brow as she looked at him. “That mark on your neck have anything to do with that?”

Of course she marked him. Some things never change, and Helena Bertinelli was one of them. He just couldn’t seem to learn that lesson. 

“Anybody I know?”

A moment passed, in which Oliver looked anywhere but at her face. “Ollie, no.”

He shrugged. 

“So that’s where you took off to last night when mom came back downstairs all pissed off then.” She took a sip of her coke and rum and Oliver could tell it was used a shield for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Do I need to remind you of the trainwreck that happened last time you and Helena were together?”

“Thea, there isn’t going to be any _together_ between us. It was one night this time. That’s it.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” she replied, her brow furrowed. “I seem to recall that’s what you said the last time, too.”

Damnit, she was right. He’d almost forgotten about the last time. Or maybe it was the second to last time. He never knew with Helena, back then. Things were fun and easy at first, no expectations… no strings. Then the tabloids figured out that she was a regular fixture in his bed, and the headlines stopped being _Ollie Queen’s Latest Exploits_ and became _This just in: Helena Bertinelli - future Mrs. Queen?_

When she started putting pressure on him about making things officially official, he knew that it was time for it to be over. It was never meant to be anything more than a one-time distraction, but it became a steady distraction. If he was bored, lonely, or needed to avoid the Moira Queen Inquisition about settling down, he’d bring her around. Or himself around her. He always intended it to be just the once, but she was beautiful and wanted him, and Ollie was a simple man.

A few nights before he left, Helena showed up at his going away party (the one that he was certain he hadn’t invited her to) and begged for him to take her back. He had already had a few drinks in him when she arrived, and things had quickly escalated. It got nasty the next morning, when he had to explain in the sober light of day exactly why it was never, ever going to work between them. 

Time and distance (and the Corps) had taught him that he was better than that. But coming home was overwhelming, and he slipped. And now he would pay for that slip until he could figure out how to fix it. 

“It’s not going to happen again, Speedy. I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his tone serious. “Especially where she’s concerned.” 

Thea studied his face for a moment, before nodding, and dropping the subject. The rest of their conversation was less serious, mostly about the things that have changed in their hometown. 

After Thea left, Oliver found himself leaning against the polished wood of the bar. His half empty glass of scotch dangled from his fingers as he debated grabbing a pool cue and joining in on a game. He hadn’t played since before he had enlisted, but some things never truly went away. The memory of a cue sliding through his fingers and hitting the striped ball (he always went stripes) perfectly on center wasn’t one that he would ever be rid of easily. 

His CO had called it Muscle Memory when he had been fumbling with learning how to take a gun apart and put back together. 

Pool was one of those memories that was ingrained in him, and not just for how easy it had been for Ollie to pick up a girl for the night at one of the tables. It was one of his favorite ways to flirt. 

He caught sight of a blonde woman in a dress brighter than the colors of the sky at sunset leaning a cue against an open table, claiming it for her own use even as she began to rack the balls for a game. The way the lights of the pub hit her hair made it look like she was glowing and Oliver felt a slight pain in his chest at just how _perfect_ she looked in that moment. 

Slamming back the watered down remains of his drink, Oliver left his glass on the bar and walked over to her. “Mind if I join you,” he asked, and was taken aback at the intensity of the smile she offered him.

“If you don’t mind that it’s going to be a long game.” She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, an industrial piercing glinting in the shifting lights. “I won’t lie. I’m in need of practice.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” he promises with a smirk. “Been a long while since I played myself. Looks like we’ll be evenly matched.” He gestures to the perfectly placed pool balls with his left hand while he reaches for a cue with his right. “Why don’t you take first shot?”

Pulling her blonde hair back into a high ponytail, she surveys the table a moment before nodding. “Sounds like a plan to me. Care to make a wager on it?”

“I don’t have any cash on me to put down on a game,” he warns her. “Nor do I even know the name of the person I am going to wager with.”

The woman holds out her hand to him. “Felicity. Smoak. And I’m not after cash. How about loser buys the winner whatever they want to drink?”

Her hand feels small in his, smaller than even Thea’s, and he is struck for a moment at how tiny she really is. Before just then, Felicity had seemed to be larger than life to him, taking up more space than she actually did based on the force of her personality alone. “Oliver Queen,” he told her before letting go of her hand. He had to let go so they could play, as much as he wanted to keep holding onto it. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“You really sure that you don’t mind if I go first?”

Stepping back, he leaned slightly on his cue and motioned her forward. “Have at.”

He watched as she walked carefully along the sides of the table before leaning over, lining up her shot to break the balls. A crack that Oliver could hear even over the music marked the beginning of the game, and Felicity wasted no time in claiming stripes as she sunk five of her seven before Oliver even got a shot in. In an attempt to catch up with her, he tried to aim for two of his solids, rolling them towards the far corner pocket. While both solids did go down, Oliver discovered a second later that he had misjudged the force needed for the shot, and winced as the cue ball followed both of them. 

“Scratch,” she told him, pulling the ball out and lining up her own shot.

He stared at her, looking at her twisting herself over the table’s edge with an appreciative eye. “Why do I have the feeling I’m about to be ordering some sort of sex on the beach or really colorful mai-tai in about a minute and a half?”

“Because that’s what you’re craving?” She didn’t even look up at him as she sunk her two remaining balls, tongue darting out to lick her lips for a moment. Oliver closed his eyes and bit back a groan. “Eight ball, side pocket,” she called. “I’ve never been much of one for the mixed drinks. I tend to get really sick off of them really quickly.”

A crack as loud as the game ending hit sounded. Without watching to see where the ball went, Felicity turned to hang up her cue. Oliver followed the ball’s progress to its inevitable end in the called side pocket before sighing and shaking his head with a smile. “Why do I feel like I’ve just been hustled?” he asked her, putting his stick away next to the one she had been using. 

“I said that I needed the practice. I never said that I was bad at it.” She sat down at the bar with a smile for him. 

Oliver tried to hide a smile as he motioned to the bartender when he turned their way.

“Catch another unsuspecting date there, Fast Eddie?” the bartender asked her.

“Oh, I’m not her date,” Oliver interrupted at the same time Felicity started laughing. 

“No, Tommy knows I’m here tonight.” She tapped her bright red lips, and Oliver noticed her lime green nails for the first time that night in the light the bar offered. “This guy agreed to my wager though. So give me my usual winning glass of whiskey, neat, please, Ben.”

Oliver watched as Ben pulled a clean glass from beneath the bar before reaching high for a bottle of Booker’s from the top shelf. “Whiskey, huh?’

“Like I said. The fruity mixed drinks make me sick.” Felicity didn’t down the drink quickly like he would have when he was younger and far more stupid than he was now. Instead she savored it, slow slips, and a pause before swallowing, letting it sit in her mouth for just a moment. “Thank you, for the drink, Oliver,” she told him when Ben walked away. 

“I keep my end of bargains,” he told her, leaning next to her. “Though, I’m not sure I’ll ever wager against you on a game ever again.”

She laughed. 

It was a sound that Oliver realized suddenly he would do anything to hear again, right along with her voice. He didn’t think that he would ever get tired of either. “You come here a lot?” he asked. “It’s not a pickup line, I swear. I just got back into town after a time away, would be nice to know at least one other person here aside from my sister.”

“I’m here almost every Thursday night,” she told him, rewarding him with another dazzling smile that he swore had him seeing stars as clearly as he had been able to in the desert. 

“Well then, I suppose that I will see you next Thursday then,” Oliver told her before going off to find Ben to settle his tab.


	3. a story strange but true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s some sort of… _something_ there, yeah.”
> 
> Chapter title from "Life in Living Color" from _Catch Me If You Can_.

The last thing that he remembered was getting into his car, turning off the radio and pulling out of the parking lot. 

The first thing he noticed was that he had a killer headache, and that those lights were really bright. The second thing he noticed was the antiseptic smell, and the fact that there were hands on his forehead. 

“Mister Queen, I'm Doctor Merlyn. Mister Queen, I need you to stop moving so I can find out where this bleeding is coming from.”

“W-what happened?”

“Your car was struck as you were pulling out of a parking lot in The Glades. You've got a nasty laceration on your forehead and one on your shoulder that both need stitches and a probable concussion, but we need a CT scan to confirm. Is that anyone we can call for you?”

Oliver was disoriented, but made eye contact with the dark-haired doctor. “My sister, Thea. Call her… numbers in my phone.”

“Maggie, call the sister. Harper, after theses sutures are done, let’s get him up to CT.”

The doctor cut his shirt away so be could stitch his wounds, but was taken aback by the sight of the scars on his back and sides.

“I saw some… _stuff_ during my last tour. S’fine now.”

Oliver saw Doctor Merlyn take a deep breath, a moment to collect himself. He couldn’t blame him. There was a reason he didn’t enjoy looking in mirrors since his second tour, why he had refused to take off his shirt even after meeting up with Helena on accident again.

“What branch?”

“United States M-M-Marine Corps.” Oliver gritted his teeth against a wave of pain as the doctor injected the wound on his shoulder with something to numb it.

“Why the Marines?” The good doctor raised his eyebrows as he began to apply butterfly bandages to Oliver’s forehead.

Though he got that question a lot, he still didn’t have a good, real answer to it. “Ladies love the dress blues.” 

That earned a short laugh. “I bet they do,” he replied, as he finished the last suture on his shoulder. “Well, Mister Queen, you’re all done here. These need to stay dry but can come out in about a week.” He took off his gloves, and tossed them in the bin by the door to the room. “Harper here is gonna get you up to CT to check out your head, and I’ll be back to talk with you once the scans come in.” 

Forty five minutes, two elevator rides, and a nap later, Oliver’s results came back: mild bruising, but no concussion. He was just settled into his room, waiting on the doc to come back in, when Thea burst through the door. 

“Ollie, oh my god. What happened?”

“Miss Queen, your brother’s car was struck by another vehicle as he was leaving a parking lot in The Glades. He sustained a laceration on his forehead, another on his shoulder and a minor concussion. He can be discharged once his blood work comes back.”

Doctor Merlyn spoke from the doorway, and was turning to leave, but stopped in the doorway once he heard Oliver speak.

“Doc, what about the other driver?”

“An officer will be in to take your statement shortly.”

“Statement? Why does he need to give a statement?”

“Miss Queen, when an accident like this happens, statements are taken. It's up to Mister Queen to decide if charges are pressed or not.”

“Charges? Why would I need to press charges?” 

Thea opened her mouth to answer, but was cut-off by a gruff voice from the doorway. 

“Mister Queen, back so soon?” 

Oliver would recognize that voice anywhere, and sighed. “Detective Lance, it’s been awhile.”  
“Miss Queen, can I speak to your brother for a moment?” 

Thea looked between the two men, knowing that there wasn’t a lot of love between the two, but once Oliver gave her a subtle nod, she turned to follow Merlyn. “Where can a girl get some coffee around here?”

They waited for the door to shut before starting their conversation. 

“Before I answer any questions, I want to know if the other driver is okay.”

“She won’t be gracing any magazine covers for awhile with her face all busted up and the broken arm, but she’s fine other than that… and asking about you.”

“About me?”

“Jesus, Queen. Only you would get hit by your drunk ex-girlfriend and not know it was her.” 

Things suddenly became very clear for Oliver. Helena, of course. He had spotted her at Verdant, while he was playing pool with Felicity, but steered clear of her. He didn’t need her getting ideas about them again, not after last time. It figures that she would be leaving the same time he was. 

“There’s some sort of… _something_ there, yeah.”

“Poetic justice?” 

Oliver glared at the detective. “I don’t want to press charges, Detective. I’ll settle the matter with the lawyers and insurance companies.” 

Lance shrugged. “Your call.”

“No charges.”

Lance nodded, before turning to leave.

It wasn’t that some part of him didn’t want to punish Helena. For all the back and forth and pain that they had caused each other over the years, she certainly deserved it - but so did he. One of the biggest reasons that he had enlisted was his determination to be a different person, to shake the lifestyle that she had been right next to him in. If this had been the old him, he would’ve jumped right back into the game with Helena - the blame, the hate, the sex, the drugs... but now? Five years, three tours, and everything that he had seen had made him into someone, something, different. 

He was certain of the fact that this was the chance for him to prove that. That he wasn’t the same person he had been when he had left, even if it seemed like that was who the world wanted back. 

If he could get the second chance, maybe others did too. For all that he had done in those five years, for some reason he had been able to get home. 

Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from jumping back into bad habits with both feet. Even Thea had noted that. Given what Helena had done to Thea, had done for his sister, it was little wonder that she was hesitant about him going back to her. 

Oliver closed his eyes against the harsh lighting of the hospital room in an attempt to focus. Plans. What he needed right now was to make some sort of plan on what he was going to do. Thanks to the drugs that the IV was pumping into him, he sort of entertained the idea that maybe living at Verdant where his blonde pool shark was could be a possibility. He could get to know her, go back to her apartment and kiss her goodnight after a date. 

There was a thought that had him smiling a bit, oblivious to the fact that his sister had reentered the room. “That must be good stuff they’re giving you, Ollie, to make you smile like that.”

With what felt like Herculean effort, Oliver forced his eyes to open and to focus on Thea. She had a styrofoam cup in her hand, steam still curling from the top. “Where’d you find coffee?”

“Tommy, your doctor, brought me some from the break room.” She took a small sip before setting it on the counter. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but after the twenty tons of sugar I dumped in, it’s drinkable.”

“It’s caffeine,” came his doctor’s voice--Tommy’s voice--from the door. “Your blood work is in good shape, Mister Queen. We’ll get you discharged here and then your sister can take you back home. There will be a prescription for some pain meds waiting for you to pick up at the pharmacy by the time you leave too.”

Oliver shook his head, protesting. “I’ll be fine, don’t need them.”

He saw Tommy give his sister a look, and Thea nodded. It looked like the two of them were going to be double teaming him after only knowing one another for the past fifteen minutes. It only got worse when Tommy came in with a wheelchair for Oliver, insisting that it was hospital policy that he could not walk to Thea’s car, especially not after being in a car accident. 

His thoughts running in circles, Oliver resigned himself to being wheeled out to the entrance. Two days home and he was already screwing everything up. Iraq had been so much easier to navigate than this real world he was supposed to be in now.


End file.
